


A Wisp of Fear

by bluestrawberryiii



Series: The Other Side of Fear [1]
Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Gen, Mild Hurt/Comfort, also i apologize for the title it is Not Very Good, but also theres some pretty graphic descriptions of...i think a punctured lung, just ignore it pls i beg of you, so i guess this is technically, this is just some platonic fluffy bullshit i dunno
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-22
Updated: 2016-07-22
Packaged: 2018-07-25 23:11:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7550881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluestrawberryiii/pseuds/bluestrawberryiii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Damian gets hit with a dose of fear gas, and it doesn't work out well for anyone involved.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Wisp of Fear

**Author's Note:**

> i found this in my googledocs under a pile of essays from last year. it was filed under "blood choke" so i mean obviously i was interested who wouldnt be. (i think i wrote it for one of those angst starters going around tumblr idk)  
> but anyways regardless i cleaned it up and here it is! hope you guys like it!!!

“I’ve always wanted to see you choking on your own blood.” 

The sentiment wasn’t particularly shocking, but Damian found it still hurt to hear it said out loud. 

He opened his mouth to shoot some sort of retort back at Tim, something that would cut just as deep. But as soon as he pulled in a breath, he had to cough it back out. Coppery blood bubbled up from where it had been pooling in the back of his throat, speckling his lips and splattering onto his tongue. If Tim had wanted to see him choke, he was certainly getting his wish.

“Is Damian okay?” Dick’s voice echoed down the tunnel, rising over the sound of a fight. Damian couldn’t remember who he was fighting. Everything was growing dark at the edges, including his memory. He could catch figures dancing along the boundaries, shadowy wraiths flitting in and out, framing Tim’s grotesque grin.

“He’s fine, I’ve got him!” Tim yelled back to Dick. Damian wanted to call to Dick for help, tell him _no,_ Tim _didn’t_ want to help him. But by that point, the blood had risen to fill his mouth entirely. When he opened it, the liquid spilled out in a gush of red. It came down his chin and plastered his collar to the nape of his neck, and dribbled across his cheek to pool in his ear.

The blood, the difficulty breathing. He must have taken a hit to the respiratory system. But how…?

A knife briefly glinted in Tim’s hand.

 _Well,_ Damian thought, _I guess that answers that._

Through the encroaching blackness, he saw Tim’s hands reach down towards him.

“No!” he tried--and failed--to mouth around the blood. “No, no, no!” Damian wasn’t sure why he cared so much, why he felt the need to fight Tim off of him; with such a severe respiratory injury, he was as good as dead, no matter what he did. But, as Tim picked him up and the remaining blood in Damian’s body roared from the change in position, he figured that he might as well take Tim down with him.

The world was vague graying shapes by then, and fading by the minute. But Damian knew from the echoey, muffled grunts and crunches following his flailing blows that at least some of his efforts weren't wasted.

But the blows gradually weakened as he ran out of energy, and even when he did manage to hit, the sound was soft and muted. Too muted. Until finally, the gray shapes, the sounds, even the suffocating feeling of blood in his throat, disappeared.

* * *

 

Everything was blurry and white when Damian opened his eyes next. He blinked once, twice, until the bedroom came into focus. To the right was his bedstand, the copy of _Pride and Prejudice_ right where he had left it. To the left, reading silently in a chair, was Tim.

...Tim.

Damian scrambled back to the right, stopping before he hit the headboard and completely cornered himself. Why had he been allowed in the room? Did he sneak in? Why hadn’t he finished the job while Damian slept? There were a million questions swirling around his head, none of which seemed to have any answers.

The rustling of the covers alerted Tim and he looked up, a deceptively innocent smile spreading his lips and highlighting a mottled red and purple bruise on his cheekbone. Damian felt a small thrill of satisfaction, knowing it was probably his doing.

“Oh good, you're up!” He closed the book and rose, moving over to Damian's side of the bed.

“Stay away from me,” Damian snarled. His gaze was intense enough to make Tim take a couple steps back. He noticed that Tim was favoring his left side, and there was a slight bulge around his midsection, not quite hidden underneath his shirt. Bandages. If Tim made a move, Damian could use that weakness to his advantage.

“What's wrong?” Tim asked, eyebrows knit together. Thinking, Damian knew. Thinking about what, he could only guess.

“ _What's wrong?_ ” Damian mocked. “What's wrong, Drake, is that you tried to kill me. Though…” He indulged a condescending smirk to hide his panic. “Considering how useless you are, I'm not surprised you failed.” He hadn't said anything like that to Tim for a while, but Damian figured attempted murder knocked their relationship back a few steps.

Tim didn't even have the decency to look hurt. Instead, his eyes widened in realization. “So _that's_ what you were yelling about.”

“What?”

“Damian.” He took a risk and sat down on the foot of the bed. Damian resisted the urge to shoot his foot into Tim’s injured side. “You were fear-gassed. You don't remember, huh?”

Damian shook his head slowly. The memories of the night in the sewer were screaming at him not to believe Tim. But he knew, logically, fear gas would explain a lot.

“Looked like it was just a small dose, but you wouldn't know it. You were kicking and screaming like hell itself was after you.” Tim lifted up his shirt to reveal the bandage underneath. “Managed to get me pretty good before you passed out.

“But.” Tim eased down onto the mattress, less cautious now that Damian seemed to have relaxed. “That makes sense. The fear gas must've latched onto our...spotty relationship and gone from there.”

Damian lowered himself back down onto the bed, untensing his muscles. Was it really that simple? Had he been foolish enough to get fear gassed, and then made Tim pay the price for his mistake? He hated to think he’d lost control so completely like that, but it made sense. “How did it happen?” The bloody nightmare was taking up most of his memories of that night; everything before that was just...gone. Like it had been burned up.

“It was just a drug bust, initially.” Tim shrugged. “It was Dick’s case, but they started to move their operation into Gotham last night. So he called in, asked for some extra hands to help take them down, and we happened to be in the area.” He sighed and laid fully down, wincing for a bit at how it stressed his injury. “And… Well, you know. Turns out, they were shipping fear gas, not drugs. You went down a side tunnel and got hit, so I tried to figure you out while Dick dealt with the rest of the guys.”

Damian frowned. “Why didn’t you help Grayson with the dealers first?” He looked pointedly at Tim’s bruised face. “It would’ve been a more productive use of your time.”

“Hah. Yeah.” Tim smiled. “Getting beat up by a middle schooler certainly wasn’t the highlight of my week, that’s for sure. But. You know…” He looked up at the ceiling. “I didn’t want to leave you alone. Maybe I should’ve, considering...yeah. But I’ve been fear-gassed before. I guess I just wanted to make sure nothing...happened. You know?”

Damian looked down at the crumpled sheets, not sure how to respond. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Silence fell over them. Damian could hear the soft, even hum of the fan and the distant clunking of the water heater gearing up. Probably Alfred starting dinner.

“Well,” Tim finally said, easing back up from the foot of the bed. “You probably want some privacy, so I guess I’ll just get going.” He moved stiffly towards the door. It was almost funny, how Tim was trying to hide his pain from someone specially trained in locating weaknesses.

“Absolutely not.”

Tim turned around, confused. “What?”

“You’re hurt. I know how hard I can hit.” Damian leaned forward to pat the spot that Tim had just left. “You’d better lie down, before Pennyworth finds out you’ve been running around without proper medical care. You know how he gets.”

For a moment, Tim did nothing. Damian thought that perhaps he would refuse the offer.

But then his lips turned upward into a small smile. “You’re probably right. Thanks, Damian.”

Damian huffed. “Whatever, Drake.” He leaned over and grabbed _Pride and Prejudice_ from the bedstand. “But you have to be quiet.”

Tim grabbed his own book - some beat-up dollar store fantasy novel - and laid back down on the bed with a smile. “I can do that.”

**Author's Note:**

> so while i was editing i realized i could totally make a series with this, what with the fear gas dealers n such. if enough people are interested, id love to write it, but if not i think this stands just fine on its own. either way, thanks for reading!!!


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